That's What You Get
by Skydark
Summary: Rascally Xingian Royalty
1. Chapter 1

Mercy, but he didn't know from whom and it was all he wanted. He rolled over to his stomach and immediately regretted it; surging to his hands and knees quickly and regretting that as well. He left his forehead pressed where it was; among something soft at least and he didn't dare open his eyes for love or money. His automail reacted in a sluggish and jerky fashion, probably because every nerve he had was scrabbling for equilibrium and all he could think of was finding some way to escape his own skull.

The events preceding this painful awakening were fuzzy at best, missing at worst and he couldn't for the life of him figure out just where he was suppose to be exactly. A fine way to leave himself open he realized but then he also realized he didn't give a flying fuck and if someone wanted to come in here and take him out in his moment of weakness then let them come. Fuck all things in the world bright and light and sunlight, what the fuck time was it, and why the fuck did he care? He ground the tips of his flesh fingers into his temple and restrained his automail from leaping to do the same; although it seemed eager to follow suit.

He moved a few inches forward, forehead still firmly pressed in it's sunlight blocking position and he directly bumped into something barrier or another. He wasn't sure what it was so he let the automail lash out and grab it, not that he was going to be able to tell what it was that way, but if it had a precedent for biting or stinging or some other adverse reaction at least he wouldn't feel it.

What rewarded his hand saving efforts was a hearty groan and a shifting of the barrier in front of his determined slide across whatever surface he was currently on; there was also the sensation of the passage of air and a slight thumping near his head on said surface.

"Leggo," a voice whined, "you're puncturing my thigh! That's no way to treat your husband."

Oh great, not only was his head going to dissolve into a steamy puddle of organic gray mush, but he was in someone's bed and he didn't know who this someone was, but they thought he was someone he wasn't; that just added to the whole delighted mess this was surely to become. When his erstwhile and unknown bed partner came to full consciousness, he would realize the alchemist that was in his bed was three things; not who he thought it would be, not his wife and definitely not a girl. Peachy.

So to forgo the soon to be yelling and accusations and probably terminal embarrassment, Ed started to pat around for the edge of the bed. Primarily he could grab it and drag himself over the edge and onto the floor, then slither across it to the door and make a rather undignified but important escape. But the problem became there was suddenly a hand on his back. And not just his back, but his _bare back_, not his back through his shirt but actually touching his flesh. Ok, so where the fuck was his shirt? And the hand? It moved. It moved down his back and suddenly it was resting on his ass, and not just his ass, but his _bare ass_, like it belonged there or something. And that was not only weird because where the fuck were his pants, but that was definitely unacceptable.

"OY," he said loudly and did a half turn back toward the person laying hands on his person; he was ready to clap his automail into a blade and take the offending hand off at the wrist. But the person lying there with his hand on his ass looked pretty familiar despite the mass of wild and loose black hair all over the pillow and in the person's face.

"What is it my love?" Ling Yao sighed extravagantly, stretched and rubbed Ed's ass a little, "You really liked this when I did it last night."

Ed scooted forward, turned and sat on his ass; mostly to get Ling's hand off of it. Ling lifted his head, propping his elbow on the bed and rested his chin in his palm. He smiled at Ed, then used his other hand to push hair out of his face; but that seemed to be a losing battle.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ed growled lowly.

"About last night," Ling said with a sigh and a dreamy sort of smile, "it was the most wonderful night of my life. Just the two of us, the riviera of Aerguo, the resort, the abundance of food and drink..," Ling flopped back onto the pillow, stretching his arms above him and lacing his finger. "And then, you said yes, seriously Edward, I almost cried."

Ed tilted his head, which throbbed on cue and tried to summon up anything in regards of this supposed adventure Ling was talking about and what the connotation of saying 'yes' might have entailed. Yes could be the answer to a lot of things; in fact the sheer number of things yes could be associated with was, in essence, infinite. Yes, I'll have some of the shrimp scampi, yes I'll have another beer, yes I want to lounge on the beach, yes I want to wake up naked in bed with you; however, on review of the latter statement, Ed was pretty sure he would have been able to apply the 'no' response. He was pretty sure no was in his vocabulary, in fact, he knew on several occasions in which he had successfully used the word no. Without a doubt, no would have been the appropriate response. Now, to be fair, he did mention the possibility, in his own internal litany, that beer had been involved. In perchance, there was an involvement with a more beer than common sense ratio, then yes could have been confused with no, thus causing his current predicament. Yes instead of no was often associated with the lack of inhibition beer seemed to cause in his cognitive reasoning functions. So quite possibly, he did say yes, meaning no, and this wasn't entirely Ling's fault.

He just preferred that it would be, so he'd make that happen. But to be on the safe side, maybe he should find out just what he'd said 'yes' to, so he once again fixed his gaze on Ling.

"What the fuck could possibly make you cry just by me saying yes?" he hissed. "Oh fuck wait, it wasn't yes I'll pay for this resort or anything like that was it?"

"No," Ling sighed, "nothing as petty as that. Besides, you flashed your watch around a lot, the military is paying for the resort," Ling purred.

"Fuck and damn, why don't you watch me better?!" Ed cried, then squinted his eyes shut really hard until the echo in his head subsided. "Mustang is going to kick my ass from here to Briggs and then the Major General will kick it back again! LING, you promised AL you'd watch me!"

"I did watch you! You were magnificent, smiling, swaggering, getting off on being important. Really it's just glorious to watch you throw your authority around; everyone was suitably impressed," the prince grinned. "Imagine my profound gratitude and pride to have one such as you."

"Your own personal sugar daddy," Ed kept his eyes closed but his teeth bared, "all on the amestris' taxpayers cen. I think that someone a long time ago had a vision of you when they created the word shameless."

"Wife," Ling sighed again. "Well that would be the proper term, but don't think I'm going to hold you to that. I know the amestrian male sensibilities when it comes to labels. We'll come up with something appropriate, never fear."

Ed blinked his eyes open then, sensing somehow that something was off.

"Who's got a wife?" he questioned.

"I do," Ling said gleefully, "see?" And he held his hand out, displaying a simple silver band around the next to last finger.

Ed stared at it dully for a moment, as if trying to puzzle out exactly what it was; but then of course he did.

"NO, NO YOU DIDN'T! I TOLD YOU THAT SHOOTER GIRL WAS ONLY LETTING YOU STICK YOUR FACE THERE BECAUSE WE WERE TIPPING LIKE WE WERE ON SOMEONE ELSES CEN, AND ACTUALLY WE WERE, AND NOW I'M GOING TO GET BLAMED BECAUSE SOMEHOW THIS WILL FUCK UP ANCIENT XINGIAN BLOODLINES AND WHEN THEY WRITE ABOUT ME IN XINGIAN HISTORY BOOKS THEY'LL MAKE IT SOUND LIKE I FORCED YOU INTO IT OR SOMETHING," Ed got out, all in one breath. Ling looked suitably impressed.

"So you do remember something about last night," the prince grinned, rolling onto his stomach and propping his chin on his folded arms. "That's good to know."

"It doesn't matter what I remember, what does she remember?! Was she drinking, too? Think Ling, think! Maybe we can get you out of this," Ed huffed, reaching up to rub his head.

"Who says I want out of it," the prince said slowly, "and as much as I adore you worrying about my virtue; I didn't marry a shooter girl."

"I'm sure you didn't find any spare princesses lying around in this place; no, wait, we're talking about you...," Ed said.

"Wrong again, I didn't marry a princess, either," Ling bent his knees and lifted his feet in the air, kicking them back and forth idly.

Ed leaned back on his hands, nakedness no longer seeming to matter to either of them, and snorted.

"Fine, so who did you marry?" he asked. "My head hurts to much for twenty questions."

Ling lifted his hand, curled all his fingers except his pointing finger and drew slow circles in the air for a moment before pointing his pointing finger at Ed.

Ed physically jumped and turned to look behind him, ready to dive for the blankets to hide his stuff, but there was no one there and he swung his head back around to look at Ling and regretted it because it felt that even though his neck had stopped his head kept swinging. He lifted his automail hand to stop it from spinning and bared his teeth at Ling. He didn't need this hangover, this prince, this over priced hotel room. What he did need was his clothes, some aspirin or a sledgehammer, either was fine, and a train ride out of this hellhole and back to Central; where of course he was likely to get reamed by both his commanding officer and his little brother. It was a no win situation as far as he was concerned. Waste more time with the Prince of Insipid or let his head explode on the train ride home.

"Why don't you look at your right hand," Ling encouraged, using the thumb on his ring hand to spin his ring around and round, sort of like what Ed's head was doing. "You are being exceedingly slow on the uptake this morning," the prince rolled over onto his back now, tilted his head back to look at Ed.

Ed lifted his automail hand and stared at it dully. He wasn't sure why he had to look at his right hand or just what the hell he had to be fast about. Fuck, his head was pounding but the Prince of Morons didn't seem to think that was any reason to cut him any slack in their non-stop game of verbal abuse. His hand looked pretty automail, as it usually did. Metal and bolts and what the fuck was this ring around his next to last finger, and speaking of next to last fingers....

'WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PINKY?! OH FUCK I LOST MY PINKY!," and Ed started to slap around the bed with his automail hand making the prince hastily roll to the side lest he get slapped, too. "I KNOW I HAD IT LAST NIGHT, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO IT, I'M DEAD, DO YOU HEAR ME DEAD! I WAS TOLD IF THERE WAS ONE MORE REPAIR THAT WASN'T A ROUTINE REPAIR IT WOULD BE TRIPLE THE PRICE AND YOU KNOW I HAVE TO FUCKING GO ALL THE WAY TO RUSH VALLEY TO GET THIS SHIT FIXED AND I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE LEAVE BECAUSE OF YOU MR. PRINCE AMBASSADOR DEMADING BULLSHIT WHATEVER YOU ARE THAT MAKES THE BRASS GIVE IN AND MAKES ME ESCORT YOU TO PLACES I HAVE NO BUSINESS BEING IN WITH YOU BECAUSE IT ALWAYS ENDS UP AS TROUBLE! TROUBLE YOU STUPID FUCK HEAD, MY PINKY!"

"It was such a touching ceremony," the prince cooed. "We thought you were going to throw up, but in the end you didn't."

Ed did a very dramatic slow motion collapse onto the mattress. "My pinky," he moaned.

"There, there," the prince said. "Now that you're royalty you can have all the pinkies you want."


	2. Chapter 2

"We are not married," Ed said as he searched the room over very determinedly for his shirt. He had his pants, he'd found them after an hour long crawl around the room on his belly with Prince Unhelpful holding court on the bed. Well ok, not an hour, his head just made it feel that way.

"You said I do, you sacrificed part of your own... metal and alchemy to make the rings," the prince protested, still nude, still lounging on the bed.

"Get up and get dressed, we aren't staying here past check out because I'm not paying for another night," Ed growled, still shirtless, starting to believe he was going to stay that way. "And we're not married. For one, guys can't get married."

"In Central," the prince said, "but you forget my love, we aren't even in Amestris at the moment. The laws here are much, much more liberal than your war mongering little parliament could ever hope to be."

"You can't prove I said yes," Ed sputtered, "I know I wouldn't have said yes."

"Suit yourself," the prince said, lying on his back now, arms crossed behind his head. "The fact that you have a spotty memory of the events last night, coupled with a throng of witnesses and the fact that we've consummated the relationship obviously mean nothing to you."

"We did what?" Ed said slowly, each word tumbling from his mouth and shaking the floor as it landed. "We did what with our relationship? We don't even have a relationship. You just throw down the royalty card whenever you show up and want to make me suffer. You and I? We are so not in a relationship that other relationships tremble in terror when they move by us fearing they will be sucked into the void of nothingness that our combined not relationship status creates. So, in conclusion, we aren't married, no one consummated anyone else and when we leave this resort, before check out, this morning, nothing will have ever happened. The end."

"You really don't remember?" the prince said, finally sitting up. "You don't remember anything about us in this room last night?"

"No, why should I?" Ed snorted, getting to his feet and considering the shirt a lost cause. He would just have to transmute one out of the curtains or something and hightail it to the train station before the resort figured it out. He looked over at Ling and paused. Ling had a strange look on his face.

Ed was use to the many moods of Ling. They vacillated from closed eyed dorky fox-faced happiness to closed eyed dorky fox-faced happiness with hunger and back again. Occasionally there was a look of closed eyed dorky fox-faced concern, but that was saved for when they were fighting/fleeing for their lives; but this new look was something Ed had never had experience with and he wasn't sure how to interpret it. He wasn't good at interpreting things like moods, in either gender, and he'd had some painful lessons at being horribly wrong; he didn't care to repeat them. But asking Ling what was going on in his mind to explain the look on his face would be like admitting fallacy, something he didn't do readily with Ling.

Ling continued to sit there, naked and cross legged with his hair a wild black curtain in his face and looking that look that Ed didn't know, or he told himself he didn't know. He momentarily stalled in his quest for a shirt and Ling reached up to push some of his hair out of his face.

"Was it something I'm going to need to remember for say, oh, a court hearing?" Ed ventured.

"I can't believe you don't remember the greatest night of your life!" Ling finally burst out. "You really don't remember?! Why?!"

Ed leaned back a moment, momentarily stunned, but he recovered quickly.

"Well, maybe it was the massive amounts of alcohol?" he ventured.

"I can't believe you don't remember!" Ling said, running his fingers into his hair and then clenching to pull, "I was MAGNIFICENT! You told me that you'd never had it so good and that we would always be true and how no one could ever take my place in your affections. Oh, the humanity," the prince said, flopping down onto his back again and covering his eyes with the heels of his hands, "to think that my purported fifteen minutes of sexual fame was wasted on a drunken lout, who happens to be my wife."

Ed walked over to a chair beside the bed. It was an ordinary chair with ordinary trappings and Ed took the ordinary cushion from the ordinary seat. He then turned to the bed, raised it over his head and brought it down on the prince's head. There was much flailing and shrieking, because the prince was a shrieker, and dashing about the room then as the prince protested he was a lover, not a fighter, and what sort of man would hit his wife? Ed cornered him about then, tried to make him eat the pillow, then hastily grabbed the prince and dragged him to the bathroom when it seemed last night's partying had finally caught up with him, too.

After a harrowing spell of time standing outside the bathroom door, Ed decided what the prince really needed, other than a possible stomach pump, was to get dressed so they could get the hell out. As luck would have it he could only find Ling's pants. It was an odd thing they were both missing their shirts, especially since he was pretty sure they both had on shirts the night before. Then again his faulty beer soaked brain might have just been imagining it.

He looked at his automail hand again, to bemoan the fact he was going to get clobbered and clunked his own automail thumb against the ring on the last finger on his hand. He'd determined his AWOL pinky was probably the material used to make the rings, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out how the prince had managed to talk him into it.

Unless... but no, that was idiotic. Sure, they were in a foreign country with a lot more liberal standings, but even so, they were _inebriated_ and no court in any land could hold him to anything he'd done while he probably couldn't even think of his own name. Well ok, maybe they could, but once they crossed the borders all that was pretty much null and void, right? And really, it's not like anything that Ling ever said was actually something to put stock in; well ok maybe that wasn't true, either. But this just reeked of his usual practical joke ways. There was no way they were _married_; why he even thought it for a minute was insane.

Only, he'd really looked kind of upset earlier, but oh wait, that was because Ed had not remembered his suppose sexual prowess. As if Ed would ever let any part of Ling touch any part of him that actually matters; and those parts? They mattered. The bathroom door swung open and the prince leaned against it. Ed couldn't tell how he was feeling because he couldn't see the prince's face for the shroud of black covering it. But the prince reached up, pushed the hair over one eye aside and regarded Ed in a baleful way.

"I think I'm dying," the prince said. "Heirless and with only the one wife," and he waved a finger at Ed. "You'll be a widower, you have to wear black forever by your own traditions."

"If you don't stop calling me your wife you're going to have a lot more to worry about than just dying," Ed growled, then threw the prince's pants at him. "Put those on, we're leaving. And in case you haven't noticed, I always wear black, I'm mourning my good sense in ever getting involved with you in the first place."

Ling staggered out into the room, ignoring the pants and going straight for Ed. He threw his arms over Ed's shoulder and leaned into him and Ed grunted and staggered back a step himself, bringing up his own hands to rest on the prince's sides.

"How can you be so cruel to me when it's clear I adore you with all my heart," the prince whimpered from somewhere behind his hair. "You know all my jaunts to Amestris now are with the sole intent upon seeing you," and then Ling tried to kiss him, or rather Ed thought that was what he was trying to do because there was suddenly a lot of black hair in Ed's face.

"What the fuck Ling, you were just yakking your brains out, don't try to kiss me," Ed said, turning his face away, making to push the prince away and Ling took a few steps back and just stood there and Ed could have sworn he was sniffling.

He shouldn't feel bad about this. This was just typically Ling and he should be use to this by now. He wasn't a sucker, he wasn't an idiot.

"Come on, get dressed, you're just hung over, you're not going to die," Ed continued. "Ran Fan or someone else in your entourage; who by the way are probably going out of their minds look for you, will fawn all over you when we get back. Go wash your face or something," Ed still couldn't see Ling's face, but he knew it was still there.

"I'll be a good husband," Ling moaned, "why don't you like me? I have always put you first in all things. Last night you told me you'd always looked forward to our union and now you're all like this," and the prince made a noise of disgust. "You lead me on, that's what you did. You made me believe all your pretty promises so you could set me up. You're a mean person," and the prince turned around and shuffled over to his pants. "I don't know why I married you," he said over his shoulder.

"Because you didn't marry me. You know tricking me into making rings out of my fucking _pinky_ doesn't make us married. Stop going on about it," Ed said, feeling oddly uncomfortable. "Do you happen to know what happened to our shirts?"

"You don't even remember that?" the prince lamented. Then he seemed to gather himself, surged forward and grabbed Ed's hands bringing them up and pressing them to his bare chest. Ed was to flabbergasted to react and stood there gaping at him. It was very odd for anyone to grab his hands, let alone his automail one and willingly press it to any fleshy part of them.

"Do you feel this? My heart beating in time to yours? That is because I have pledged to be true to you; to make you the center of my world and to cherish you beyond measure. Do you not feel it? How can you deny what is in our hearts?" Ling leaned in close and Ed tried to pull back but his hands had him trapped.

"Cut...cut the bullshit," Ed muttered, eyes focusing on Ling's nose. "We don't have time for this crap."

Ling pressed Ed's hands harder into his chest, tried to get his face closer despite Ed's attempts to keep it away.

"Tell me you feel nothing. No longing in your heart, no heat in your veins, tell me that all my devotion is for naught. Break me alchemist, for no one, other than you, can lay me so low with a word. I breathe for you, how can you not see that?" and the prince pressed his height advantage, and kissed Ed on the lips and Ed's fingers curled against the prince's chest in alarm; but he didn't pull back.

The prince released him only to tighten his grip on Ed's hands, pull the alchemist forward, swing him around and back him toward the bed. Ed's eyes never left his face, Ed's cheeks were flushed brilliantly and when the back of his legs hit the side of the bed he didn't even try to slow the topple backwards. And then he just lay there, staring up at the prince.

For his own part, Ling was a little startled at his sudden turn of fortune. Edward had never been one to give into anything as easily as he seemed to be giving into this. And that gave Ling a moment of pause, because what was he doing, really? As he lingered there in uncertainty, which was a new and strange state of being for himself, Ed seemed to shake himself, as if trying to shake off whatever stupor Ling had managed to cast on him; and well, the prince couldn't have that! He leaned over Ed, placing his hands to either side of Ed's head and letting his unbound hair lay over his shoulders and hang down to brush at Ed's cheeks. Ed froze again, looking for the world like some animal, caught by the stare of a larger predator. And didn't that make the prince feel delicious? All this power, lying beneath him, enthralled by his royal self.

Ling placed the tip of his finger high on Ed's bare chest and began to draw a line straight down the center. Ed's eyes darted downward, to the finger, then back up to Ling's face anxiously. He gripped the comforter on the bed to either side of him tightly.

"Ok, so, say something really happened," Ed said. "That doesn't mean things are going to continue to happen. I don't know where you get off thinking I even _wanted_ something to happen in the first place. But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt considering I don't remember a whole lot of last night. The rings are a nice touch, not sure how you pulled that off, but I give you kudos for that. But this touchy feely stuff going on now? I'm gripping the comforter to keep from driving four fingered automail through your face, just in case you mistook that for something else."

"I knew all this lovely acquiescence was to good to be true," Ling sighed. He lifted his finger from Ed's stomach, but didn't lift his position from being over Ed, even if he wasn't touching him. "If I told you that you said I was to beautiful for my shirt and ripped it off me and chewed on the collar half the night before sacrificing it to the waves on the beach; along with your own, but the way, would that make any difference?"

"None what so ever," Ed said, folding his arms over his chest now.

Ling gave another extravagant sigh, then he leaned all his weight forward, like he was going to lie on top of Ed, however, it was just to get some spring from the mattress, and he propelled himself upright and once again pushed his hair out of his face.

"Fine, we'll leave," he huffed, bent over and grabbed his pants and yanked them up, managing to tie them in a baggy way just hanging off his hips. "But there will be a scathing letter of formal protest and then, maybe I won't want you to be my escort whenever I come to Amestris."

"NO," Ed mocked gasped, "REALLY?"

"I have the sneaking suspicion you are mocking me," Ling grate out, when everything was interrupted by a knock on the door. They both looked at it and then at each other, and the knock sounded again and Ed rolled his eyes, walked over to it and yanked it open.

The young man that stood there recoiled slightly; looking Ed up and down a moment, nose wrinkling slightly. He was only a little taller than Ed himself, with pale blond hair that hung in a short page cut that hugged his cheeks and rather fancy looking clothing. He clasped his hands together and and wet his lips and just as Ed was about to shut the door, he said: "Excuse me."

"Ok, you're excused," Ed said, then shut the door anyways, because he just didn't feel like fucking around with the locals. But the knock sounded again, even if it was only timid and Ed sighed loudly and swung the door open a second time. This time however, Ling stepped into view so he could see out the door himself.

"Prince Ling!" the new comer cried, rushed forward managing to twist his body in such a way he got past Ed without so much as touching him, and threw himself on the half dressed prince who was mostly obscured by his own hair and gave a half sob. "Why did you leave last night? After all we said to each other, how could you be so cruel?"

Ed was still marveling at the incredible feat of contortion it took to wind around his frame in the door way, but he shook himself out of his stupor to give Ling the fabled raised blond eyebrow.

"Oh, Prince Marco, did I leave in the middle of a conversation? How rude, you'll have to forgive me," and Ling looked at Ed, well his hair moved in a way that suggested that Ling had raised his face.

Ed sucked the inside of his cheek and leaned back against the door, folding his arms. He tilted his head just so and gave Ling the 'well, gonna tell me about it?' eye.

The young man released Ling just enough so he could look up into the black, hairy hole where Ling's face use to be; he gave himself a shake and seemed to try and gather himself for rational conversation.

"It wasn't just a conversation, it was a personal revelation to me," Prince Marco of Aerguo said, "the way you talk, your theories, your connection with the world around you; I've never know anyone so free. How is it you can cast of the yolk of your station so easily? How does it not weigh down your soul? I want you to teach me, and I want you to... tell me the things you told me last night," and the young man's cheeks flushed. "I want to relive those feelings again; never in my life have I ever met a true romantic."

"Ah," Ling said, putting his hands on the young man's shoulders and trying to step out of his grip.

"Gee, Prince Ling, you're a true romantic, huh?" said a voice full of mirth, a voice full of vindictive delight; the voice of his new wife, leaning shirtless and haphazard in an open doorway in a resort in the lovely country of Aerugo. "And what do you know, you really _did_ find other royalty," Edward Elric said and shook his head.. "Only you dork-ass, only you."

"I can explain," Ling said, "there's no need for jealousy. It's merely an misunderstanding...."

"Who says I'm jealous," Ed snorted, grinning.

"You allow your servants to speak to you in such a manner?" the younger prince cried. "I see, it's how you blend with the commoners so well, isn't it?"

"Oh," Ed said, moving back into the room, kicking the door shut, "do go on Prince Ling, this ought to be good."

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Ling backed around the room, the young Aerugoan prince clinging to his waist. For a few moments it looked like Ling was trying to shimmy the prince down his legs, so he might step free of his arms, like taking off a pair of pants; but the prince was to persistent for that. Could it be, Ling Yao, annoying pain in the ass of Edward Elric for a number of years now, had finally met his match?

There was nothing like a good comeuppance, and Ed felt, perhaps for the first time ever, like he should take advantage of another man's weakness.

"Prince Ling is a very progressive thinker!" he declared loudly, causing Ling to actually open his eyes and prince Marco to turn his head a little. "You have very good taste in mentors, Prince Marco," Ed said, attempting to look like an educated observer, "very shrewd for your young years. I would not take no for an answer, no matter how much Prince Ling might protest. I think you owe it to your people to find new and revolutionary views to help guide your country into a glorious future."

Ling's jaw was now open and resting on the top of Marco's head and Marco appeared to have stars for pupils and he tighten his hold and Ling made a strangled bid for air.

"We all know how wise the Xingians are," Ed ended, grinning so wide his ears had moved back a little. "It would be a shame if none of it every got imparted."

Ling had reeled his jaw back in by now, and he seemed to be baring his teeth in Ed's direction, or that is the impression Ed got; it was hard to tell through all the black hair. Ling had given up trying to pry Marco off and was just standing in the boy's grip now.

"First of all, Edward is not my servant, he is my wife," Ling said. "He is my first wife and he's not very proper nor has he ever been trained."

"I am NOT your wife," Ed supplied heatedly in rebuttal.

"This is progression!" Prince Marco cried. "The total disenfranchisement of the royal class! A society that casts off all it's traditions and works to create a utopia of liberty between all, regardless of gender or wealth!"

"Well," Ling said, "I suppose..."

"I'm sure Prince Ling is just dying to start casting off all that wealth and entitlement he's got going on for him right now," Ed grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

Marco released Ling's waist so he could step back and look up at him with shining eyes.

"If this is true, I would follow you to the depths of poverty and beyond," he told the face full of black hair. "We could create a communal compound to house the masses and spur all offers of any outside assistance as we slowly waste away. But we will have each other, firm in our convictions and true in our hearts. It's so romantic," the boy hugged himself and gave a little sigh.

"Excuse me," Prince Ling said, "but I need a word with my wife," and Ling stepped around Marco, grabbed Ed's elbow and gave him a hard tug. Ed was still grinning ear to ear and let himself be tugged away, across the room and into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. But the door flew open again a scant second later, long enough for Ed to say; "I'm not his wife!" then it was pulled closed again.

"What are you doing?" Ling asked, voice quiet but high and squeaky.

"Talking you up," Ed said, leaning in to peer up at the prince's face, surprisingly the prince leaned back. "You want everyone to know how great you are, so I'm helping you along!"

"You think I'm great?" Ling asked, sounding a little breathless and reaching up to push his hair back to see Ed's face properly. "Really?"

"Fuck no," Ed grinned, but then he watched the look on Ling's face drop and Ling let his hair swing back into place, concealing his face once again. "Hey come on, look, you know what I mean. I think you're full of shit and I've never lead you to believe otherwise," Ed wasn't sure what he was saying, or why he felt uncomfortable guilt. "For all the shit you've put me through I think maybe it's my turn."

"Very well, you shall have your turn," the prince said from behind his hair. Ed couldn't see his expression, but something in Ling's tone made his stomach jump a little.

Ling shoved him aside then, grabs the door and threw it open, threw his arms in the air and announced: "All your ideas and noble intentions have made me see you are correct, Prince Marco!"

Marco looked like he might faint from happiness.

"I'm ready to cast it all aside and live in the slums of Aerguo with you to show that at the base of it all we are really one people with one common goal; even if that goal seems to be living in abject poverty to prove a point. I will make myself as destitute and pointless as I can possibly be with you as my disciple. Together we will wonder and teach our new found wisdom to the masses, what do you say to that?" Ling said, putting his hands on his hips and cocking his head to give some expression to his hair hidden features.

"I am in awe of your foresight and wisdom!" The young prince sobbed, and when Ling opened his arms, Marco flew into them. "Shall we go this moment to plan our rise to sainthood? And what about your wife?" Marco said, looking at Ed from over Ling's shoulder.

"He's not my wife," Ling said casually, "therefore he doesn't figure in; come, we have much to discuss," and Ling let Marco take his hand and lead him to the door.

"Hey," Ed said, feeling somehow this joke had backfired, "wait a minute, where are you going?"

"Don't trouble yourself," Ling said, patting the air in Ed's direction. "You're free to return on the train to Amestris unburdened by any sentimentality. You better hurry up though, if you don't check out by noon they'll charge you for the room," then Ling was out the door with Prince Marco and gone and Ed just stood there looking after them and wondering what just happened.


	4. Chapter 4

He rode the train back to Central alone and feeling very strange about it. First and foremost he was going to have to try and explain why he returned alone when his original mission was to accompany Ling. So he had to come up with something good to tell the general right off the bat. He mulled the options over in his head.

He could say the prince had decided to defect. But that wasn't actually the case; and there was bound to be some commotion if he put it like that, so he crossed that out.

He could say the prince wanted some alone time; but if that were true it would be in his best interest, as the prince's escort to just wait around on the prince and then accompany him back after the prince got over the need to be alone. So he crossed that out, too.

He could say the prince had lost what little mind he had. That was totally believable and the general, sound and reasoning soul that he was, would accept that explanation. Of course he would; the general knew the Carolingian prince was a scatter brain, having witnessed it himself many times first hand. Yes that is what he should say. Only if there were any representatives there, and heaven forbid someone like Ranfan heard him say it, well then again, there would be trouble. Big trouble for himself for calling the prince something like 'moron' and big trouble because he'd left the mentally deficient prince all alone in a foreign country. So as much as he thought this was the perfect excuse, he was forced to cross it off, too.

Well now he was out of good excuses and somehow it was all Ling's fault, imagine that. He couldn't very well say that he and Ling got married in Auergo because well, the general would probably laugh and everyone in the office would laugh then it would spread like wildfire because rumors that good just had to be broadcast from the rooftops. Soldiers were the worst gossips in the world, when would anyone realize that?

Maybe he should go back and get him. That seemed like the solution to everything, but no, Ling has pretty much told him to get lost, going off with that prince, saying he wasn't Ling's wife anymore, not like he was Ling's wife to begin with or anything like that. Ling had given him the royal kiss-off right in front of that Marco guy, like that Marco guy was something important and Ed wasn't anything at all anymore now that the big fights were over. That was just royalty for you, they liked you until you were no longer useful, then they wanted to get rid of you. Good thing falling out of favor with a prince meant no longer losing your head or something equally useful. But the big fight had been over for some time and Ling still came sniffing around, causing him trouble, taking him places and making him have a good time and marrying him and shit. Ling was just a suck ass lousy prince, that was all.

He scrubbed at his face with his hands and slammed himself back into the train bench a few times. Why was it always like _this?_ Why did Ling always make him feel... just _feel_ all these different ways whenever he was around? Why did Ling make Ed wonder what he was doing when he wasn't around? Like that night on the beach, what was with that? What was..._wait._ There was a night on the beach, wasn't there? Some vague memory, some snippet wormed it's way to his waking brain and coiled up there, waiting to strike.

Ed rubbed his chin.

Ok so they got drunk and went out on the beach and danced around like heathens and maybe there was some making out and shit. Just maybe. Maybe he let Ling take his shirt off, maybe that is what happened to his shirt.

_Maybe._

That still didn't excuse _anything._ Especially not all that married bullshit or going off with that Marco jerk or anything else that _might_ have transpired during the course of the night that not even he was sure about now.

He held up his automail hand and winced at the missing pinky finger. He rubbed the steel ring that was still on his finger with the thumb of said automail hand. He hadn't taken it off. Fine thing that, claiming they were married then going off with another man. Just on principle he should go back and kick the cheating xingian son of a bitch's ass. He shifted around on the bench in cheated on agitation now and that just pissed him off further.

He wasn't being cheated on because he _wasn't_ married. And yet, somehow, that was exactly how it felt. And it was all that fucker prince's fault for this..this _brainwashing._ That's exactly what it was, brainwashing! How could one guy make another guy think he was _married_ to him? But he wasn't, he shouldn't be using the word, let alone thinking it and if they were married he sure as fuck wasn't the wife! He scrubbed at his head with his hands and then winced when his hair got caught in the ruined gears of his equally ruined pinky.

Ok, that was it. One thing was for fucking certain. At the next stop he was getting off this train and getting on another headed back to Auergo and when he got there he was going to find that slit eyed, mealy mouthed, royal fuckhead and he was going to kick his ever-loving ass.

The cardboard box lasted maybe half an hour, as did the wandering among the alleys with a blanket draped over their heads. Really, all in all, this becoming one with the common people wasn't panning out. Especially not when Marco got the vapors whenever someone approached him who wasn't wearing some sort of designer fashion and hid behind Ling at every opportunity.

"You know you can't commune with the common people if you avoid meeting any common people," Ling offered in way of advice.

"I don't have the stamina!" Marco cried. "I don't have the courage you do. I just think they'll touch me or speak to me and I won't know how to respond. Really I haven't been educated in how to talk on the level of the commoner. At least, when you had your commoner wife, you had someone to practice with."

"Heh, that wasn't practice, that was survival," Ling said wistfully. "Edward made even the common conversation an exercise in the battle of verbosity. It was because he was so brilliant you see. There really wasn't anything very common about my commoner ex-wife," Ling sighed.

"I only wish I had a tenth of your fortitude. I just don't think I'm cut out to be a crusader for the people. It was a nice idea but I see it's going to take some effort. Effort isn't something I'm use to having to contribute to a situation. I mean, usually I just say what needs to be done and the servants do it. It would be better if I could just tell the common people what to do and they would obey. It's all this free thinking they seem to have that has me worried. What if I told them to do something and they didn't? That would just give me hives I think," Marco said.

Ling was looking at him and it had never once occurred to him in all his pampered youth there was someone out there that he would someday meet that would make him truly wonder why the masses put up with royalty at all.

Marco huffed, making his little blond pageboy cut bounce and Ling felt a sharp pang and found that he was regretting letting Edward leave after all. But really, what had Ed expected? What had he expected? Why had he expected anything?

It had been clear, throughout their rough and tumble sort of and sort of not relationship that Ed didn't get it; he didn't get Ling's interest. And Ling thought that was alright, he would be able to clarify the error later on down the road. But he hadn't, and why hadn't he? Fear probably. Fear that clarity might fundamentally change what they were and what they had when in reality they hadn't really had anything at all.

For this, he blamed himself.

Marco interrupted him by clutching at his sleeve yet again and looking about.

"It's getting dark," the younger prince exclaimed, as if this new revelation was something beyond his keen. Surely it got dark each night in Auergo. "What are we going to do? It will be _very_ dark by the time we walk back to the palace, alone, in the dark," Marco continued, stressing the word _dark_ each time he used it.

"I thought we were out on our own," Ling said simply, "and when we're on our own that means we need to find somewhere to sleep for the night."

Marco made a little scandalized gasp.

"But I need my pillows and my nana to come and tuck me in," Marco said with indignity. "She won't be able to find me way out here and she can't bring me my snack and check the closets and under the bed. Also, I don't have my nightshirt with me, either. I'm sure Mama will be very annoyed if I sleep in my clothes."

Ling wasn't sure how to respond to this, mostly for the fact he though Marco was at least sixteen and not six, but also because for a moment he almost agreed with him on the snack and checking the closets, but he shook himself.

"I'm starting to expect this entire episode of your ideal of mingling with the populace was somewhat of a sham," Ling said. "You're woefully unprepared to deal with anything outside the palace walls it seems. Just what were you doing at that resort, anyways?"

"I snuck out!" Marco said, stung. "Well, not really, I went to the resort with my Uncle and his entourage for a private party, but I slipped away! That's like sneaking out," and he snorted and gave a firm nod to confirm it.

Something start to nag Ling about the situation. Something in the back of his brain. He, too, had snuck out to do nefarious things in his youth. Nefarious, undignified things that culminated in traveling to another country at some point and meeting Edward. So sneaking out, on the whole, wasn't a completely lame thing to do. But usually, when one snuck out, one tended to go back. At least, in theory that is what one did after a successful sneak, then one laid in bed a while feeling accomplished and stealthy. Ok, so that last sneak out was rather long, with the train ride and crossing the desert and fighting homuculus and the lot, but in the end, he _did_ end up going back. He looked at Marco, feeling like a superior sneaker because it was obvious Marco couldn't last a day in the wilds of the commoners.

"Come on, there are a lot of alleys around here, I'm sure we'll find somewhere to sleep. For whatever reason I feel it's my duty to make sure you at least spend one night of your intended quest where it was intended to be," Ling said, for after all, Marco should at least glean some bit of knowledge of his superior sneaking out wisdom.

Marco seemed to tremble a bit, like a frightened fawn, but he remained mute and clung to Ling's sleeve.

"They probably don't even know your missing yet," Ling said to instill confidence in Marco's so far unsuccessful escapade. "So you might as well make the most of it before they come looking for you."

Later Ling would recall that was what was in the back of his brain, waving a red flag.

When Ed finally made it back, later the next morning, he decided to return to the scene of the crime to see if any of the resort staff had seen Ling wandering aimlessly about. It seemed unlikely Ling would stray far from a place that offered a buffet at every meal, and with any luck Ed could find him quickly, beat him unconscious quickly, and drag him back onto a train by that afternoon.

He grabbed a cab back to the resort, and noted, as he shoved a few cens at the driver, there seemed to be a lot of police milling about there. Huh, maybe it was a Auergo policeman's convention or something, and some of the policemen seemed to have ultra fancy uniforms with big plummed hats and the like, kind of like police honor guard. Weird, whatever, he just had to find one stray xingian ambassador and a ride back to the train station that wouldn't question why said ambassador was either dead, out cold or stuffed in a sack.

It seemed to Ed, as he entered the main lobby of the resort, that the police and the honor guard seemed to have all the staff lined up and were walking up and down the row of them wearing serious expressions. As Ed made to pass by the line and head for the front desk, one staff member, who looked like a busboy, piped up and pointed at Ed. This made several of the policeman and some of the honor guard look his way.

Ed looked back warily, he'd been warned time and again by his C.O., the insufferable Mustang, to stay clear of the authorities when he was out of the country. Mustang made it clear that Ed and the authorities in the same location was never a good sign, and if he had a choice, he should avoid any and all confrontation with the authorities because the General couldn't always be there to bail his ass out. As if, like the General ever bailed his ass out, or rather, had to do it all the time, or rather had to do it more than once a month. He was a special operative, that meant special rules and so one of the special rules was...ok, so the General had to bail him out all the time, that meant he was making the General good at bailing people out. Big deal, the General could get over it, and by the time he'd sorted this out in his head he seemed to be surrounded.

One of the policeman, flanked by one of the honor guard guys marched up to him and said something to him in Auergoan, or whatever the language was called. Since Ed came to Auergo maybe once a year to watch Ling get drunk _and_ he stayed at a resort where every language anyone would care to speak tended to be spoken, he never actually got past the Auergoan equivalent of 'where do I piss?'. He wasn't even sure he said that right, but all the little resort bar girls or shooter girls or barely dressed girls looking for a big tip didn't seem to care; they all giggled and jiggled at him, so he thought he did alright. Turns out he really should have paid attention to the pocket translator book Ling insist that he carry. He'd never looked at it out of spite, so this should be one of those Alphonsian life lessons about being a grouch all the time. As he stared at them blankly they seemed to twig onto the fact that he possibly didn't understand them and they waved over the busboy who had fingered him in the first place.

The busboy stood between Ed and the policeman and licked his lips nervously looking back and forth between them. The policeman growled something at the boy and he cowered a bit then turned to Ed and seemed to take a fortifying breath.

"He says," the busboy stated, "where is prince?"

"Wouldn't we all like to know," Ed retorted with a snort. "He's got a one way ticket to ass-kickville, courtesy of me and I'm looking to pay up!"

The busboy blinked at Ed in a rapid fire motion that Ed thought was kind of cool, then he looked like he was thinking about how to turn Ed's awesome verbal threat on Ling's life into Auergoan and repeat it to the policeman. He started and stalled and Ed rolled his hands in a motion to get him to continue and the busboy looked at Ed in a way Ed thought maybe small fished looked at hungry bigger fish and hesitantly finished out his sentence.

This caused quite a stir and the policeman and honor guard guy spoke rapidly to each other for several moments, then the policeman made a verbal assault on the busboy who had started to sweat and leave a little wet 'v' shape on the front of his button down shirt. The busboy rolled his eyes at Ed and Ed thought now he looked like a cow, and the busboy's lips moved and finally his vocal chords caught up with them. By now the policeman and the honor guard were glaring at him and more policeman were edging closer as if to eavesdrop on his tirade. Probably they wanted pointers in how to make a good threat.

"They want to know what you want for prince," the busboy said. "For prince to be... suh...safe," he finished and nodded to himself like he'd done a good job.

"He's not safe from me," Ed snarled.

The busboy _(now interpreter)_ looked exceedingly nervous. He kept darting anxious glances at the policeman who was giving him quizzical looks. Finally, haltingly, he said something, and the policeman sputtered and turned a few shades of red and the honor guard guy outright gasped and clutched at his ornamental sword there on his belt. The policeman grabbed his arm and they all began talking in rapid fire Auergoan, or whatever and they kept looking at Ed.

Finally they barked at the hapless busboy and he jumped, saluted and turned to Ed.

"They say will make bad relations, bad relations, if you no nee...nego..tee ate," the busboy tried to explain.

"Nee...what? What the hell was that you just said? And don't worry, the relationship, of which there wasn't one, was bad enough before all these guys started to stick their noses in; and what the fuck do they know about it anyways? Did he tell everyone I was his _wife?_ Nevermind," Ed waved his hands. "I'll just get him and be on my way and you'll never have to worry about any of this again."

And Ed turned to walk out of the lobby and down the steps to the outside. He heard a lot of movement behind him and turned to glance over his shoulder. The busboy was looking pale and slack jawed and all of the police and honor guard seemed to be... following him. All of them; and really, some of them even looked a little pissed. Maybe there was something outside, like a buffet set up or something and Ed was holding them up; that might piss him off, too.

But no, as he headed down the sidewalk they were like right behind him, murmuring, and when he sped up, they sped up and finally when he broke and ran, they all started running.

That was when Ed twigged onto the fact that something might be wrong.

"I'm hungry," Marco chanted, like a baby bird. "I'm so hungry I'm feeling faint. What will happen to me if I don't get something to eat? I'll wither away. I have a delicate constitution, that's what my Nana tells me all the time. I'm so hungry I'm not sure I can go on," he finished on a whine.

"Will you stop being so...," and Ling stopped for if truth be told this sounded sort of familiar. So instead he switched to time honored tactics he knew well. "Do you have any money?"

"No," Marco said with his big eyes, "I don't have to carry money, everything is paid for me in advance. Besides, I'm a Prince and people just want to give me things. All of my money is in a trust, where it is safe from me I'm told. One day they will give me my money to do with as I please, but really, it's so trivial, I've never had to have any before."

"There is an ancient saying, passed down among my people and I will admit that I've never really appreciated it until now," Ling told him. "It goes... 'you reap what you sow'. How ironic. I'm sure my ex-wife would appreciate this irony if only he were here to see it."

"Do you miss him, like overly?" Prince Marco asked. "He was sort of abrasive, but, was that the attraction?"

"It was part of it," Ling sighed. "The rest of it was that tight little butt and all the other lovely amenities attached to it." Ling leaned against the wall of the alley they were currently occupying.

Marco was looking a bit confused, so Ling let it drop and poked his head out to look down the street. Being as they were in a resort district that was surrounded by an equally tourist trap of a town the restaurant life was plentiful. The problem with no money is that the restaurant staff didn't tend to want to serve you. He looked at Marco again.

"How well known are you? I mean, is the general populace liable to recognize you for who you are?" He asked, hoping to scam a free meal on the royalty card. But if Marco was like himself, a lesser prince, then the changes of recognition outside the palace gates might be slim.

"Everyone at home knows me," Marco said airily. "I attend balls and functions. Usually I have to put up with my cousins," he said with a bit of a snort. "And really, I'm to old for all the games they want us to play in the gardens while the adults occupy the ballrooms. I think it's high time I get to stay in the ballrooms as well. My elder brothers get to and I don't think it's fair."

Ling's heart sank at the mention of elder brothers. So like himself, Marco was down the line. He judged Marco again, to see if he thought the little prince could run, but somehow he sort of doubted it. Ditching a bill meant being in top physical shape to out run the enraged ditchee. Dinner was turning out to be harder than expected.

"I'm running out of options," Ling said, mostly to himself, then squared his shoulders. "You wait here, I'll be back...eventually. If you hear a lot of running and yelling just cringe, don't give yourself away. Stay right here," and Ling pointed at the ground at Marco's feet. Then he stroll boldly out of the alley and down the sidewalk, looking for the first available and edible mark.

The first thing Marco did was run down the alley the opposite way then back up the alley to where Ling told him to stay. He peeked out of the alley, then made the same mad dash and back. This was terribly exciting for about five seconds, until he started to feel truly alone. He tried the cringing Ling mentioned and it only helped so much. He kept listening for running and yelling so he'd know when to cringe. He wanted to make sure he did a good job of it, so Ling would be impressed with him. He wondered if Ling would want to be his wife in the future. He certainly liked Ling. And Ling was a prince so the objections would be few he was certain. And Ling seemed to be the type of prince who could take care of things himself. After all, here he was all the way in Auergo without his Nana and look at what he'd accomplished so far; slinking through alleys and talking to common people like it was nothing out of the ordinary. He should really concentrate on learning as much as he could from this bold and innovated xingese prince; and that of course was when the running and yelling started.

Not far across town there was also a lot of running and yelling going on. Ed was making a game face of it, but without his usual xingese navigator this dodging the pursuit was turning out unexpectedly hard. It was times like these that he could appreciate his more flexible... maneuverability in tight places where low ceilings, but it wasn't admitting to anything! He was just super bendy from all his years of hard living. He slid through broken fence slats into an alley between two buildings. Not that this did him any good as both openings at the end of the alley filled with police and honor guards. Nowhere to go but up. He clapped his hands, kneeling to the ground, feeling the familiar surge and well within him; the opening of his own portal and the releasing of energy from places unknown. The ground beneath him heaved upwards and he quickly cleared the rooftops around him, having a good look around to get some sort of bearings.

To his right where more blocks of buildings that made up the town as a whole, to his left was the ocean. That was the thing about resort towns, they usually included oceans and oceans had docks and docks had ships and warehouses and all sorts of place that just might be useful for hiding. So he launched himself to the left, raced across a rooftop or two, scrambled down a fire escape and beat feet toward the wharf. He could hear his pursuit, but more distant that previously. He just might pull this off, he just might give them the slip. He just might save himself the hassle and embarrassment of having to call the bastard General to request bail money. He wasn't really sure what he'd done anyways, but he always managed to do something that made those veins in the general's temples stand out. It always made the general rub his forehead or the bridge of his nose, too. Ed could generally tell how much of a bawling out he was going to get by how hard the general rubbed.

But enough of that. Look here Ling, he could get away all on his own! He found himself barreling down a slatted wood walkway, and he pulled up short because he thought he saw some sort of uniformed men at the other end. He looked around quickly and noticed some men milling around outside a place that looked like a bar. That could work and he hurried over, trying to look like he wasn't running from the authorities and forced himself to stop and try to saunter. A couple of the men at the entrance of this supposed bar turned to look at him. They looked at him long and hard, maybe sizing him up. A bar near the waterfront would be full of tough sailor types, right? There would probably be a lot of posturing and snorting, just like the military, and well he was use to that. He gave them the hairy eyeball back and slipped just inside the door way. It was pretty much as he expected; dark, smoky, a good place to find a corner and hibernate, growling words only when approached by someone not bearing alcohol of choice. He'd spent many nights in many such places in many such towns on many such missions. It was good to be one of the unforgettable sometimes. He found he had a marked preferences for towns who didn't know his name. He was also grateful they didn't know that back and home, in the back of his closet, still in the cleaner's wrap from when it was presented was an amestrian uniform. He'd never wear it, they'd just have to court martial him. He found a table in the back that was long with a long bench and though the other end was occupied somewhat, he could sit at the opposite end with the illusion of being alone. It was as he sat there, in the dark, listening for sounds of pursuit, that he remembered what had brought him to the low point in the first place. He wondered if the xingese prince was lying around on some pillows somewhere with that other prince, being fed grapes and telling anyone who would listen about how misunderstood he was and how he'd been abandoned by his entourage. An entourage of one whom he claimed he'd married.

Fucking foreign dignitaries, nothing but wholesale pains in the asses. Especially the one Ed got stuck with all the time. How did Al land the plum job of escorting around the Cretan diplomat all the time? She was hot.

Still, it did sort of nag him he'd left Ling _alone_, when that was usually the last thing Ling needed to be. Or Ling didn't seem to prefer. Ling had this thing about him, about always being surrounded with people, or with just Ed. When it was just Ed, then Ling seemed not to care about the entourage that usually tagged along with him; mopping the floor he was about to step on, offering to carry him from chair to chair on their backs. No, Ed found when it was just Ling and himself, Ling wasn't the same Ling as when it was Ling and all his croonies at Central HQ.

He kind of liked having Ling to himself sometimes.

What? Wait! Whoa! What the fuck was this? This was not the elaborate and perfectly executed plot to get the xingese son of a bitch back for every running footstep he'd taken today. This was not the internally prepared speech to make the princely fuck beg his forgiveness _(even if Ed could never remembered internally prepared speech when it came time to give it and usually just yelled obsenities to fill the void)_, no, this was NOT what he should be thinking now, or ever. When he did find Ling? There would be blood. Maybe Ling's, maybe someone elses, but there would be paying upon paying for the indignity of having to yet again explain to Mustang why all foreign countries had it in for him. Maybe he should get some swill, whatever they drank here, and blend in some more. He glanced down the table and the two men there who'd been talking quietly amongst themselves were now looking at him. One of them gave him a small smile, lifted the mug he was drinking from and gave Ed the universal eyebrow lift that said: "interested in drinking with a local?"

No, not really, but if he was going to blend in he might as well blend in right. Besides, all these auergoan sailors looked really well dressed.

Marco barely had time to squeak when Ling appeared in the mouth of the alleyway carrying a large bag and had something hanging out of his mouth. Marco got snatched by the arm and yanked along and made to run as in actual physical exertion. He was pretty sure there was some parable his Nana had told him about his delicate ankles and why he should never, ever run anywhere but it slipped his mind as the alley was left behind and they were running down a sidewalk, dodging back and forth to avoid most of the pedestrian traffic.

Well that is, Ling was running, Marco himself seemed to be propelled forward by the sheer wake of wind Ling was generating as he ran. He was very fast, and Marco never imagined being able to run very fast, but somehow, he was keeping up. They squeezed through a narrow shop, no wider than an alley way itself and through a back room where women screeched at them and out a back door into another alley that smelled in a way Marco had never smelled a smell and out again onto a side street and down a sidewalk. Then he was urged up a fire escape, tucked under Ling's arm as they leaped the expanse of that alley to a fire escape on the neighboring building them up to the roof, then down a gutter at least it looked like a gutter to balance precariously for a moment on a fence top before jumping down to the other side of the fence.

Then Ling had to stop and pant.

"This is easier with the ex-wife," Ling said, grimacing a bit and stretching to pop his lower back, "I don't have to carry him so much."

Marco was a little shell shocked, a little frightened, a little star struck and a little speechless. He was dirty and wind ruffled. He was scraped and panting himself. He was a fugitive and now his mouth was being stuffed by some sweet and unidentifiable bread.

And so, this was what life was like outside the palace.

"Can we do that again?" he asked, knowing that even as he asked it how very naïve and cliched it was, but knowing he had to ask.

"Certainly, every time we get hungry," Ling answered, perpetual grin in place. "It's a good way to stay in shape. Ed and I are very good as a team. Ed is amazing at distraction, even though he doesn't realize it; the only thing I have to do is think of the appropriate or inappropriate thing to say and he just has this way of making the locals rivet on his every word," Ling sighed. "And that makes this part a bit easier," Ling munched down another bun, offered another to Marco who took it from his hand.

"Do you miss him?" Marco asked, picking at the side of the bun, rolling the bit of bread in his fingers and popping it in his mouth. Ling didn't bother to scold him for it, Ling didn't care if he lacked manners. What were manners anyways in this alley in the middle of the town that surrounded his palace home? Ling was quiet for a moment, then he gave a shrug and a nod.

"I do, what is the sense in pretending that I don't?" he asked. "I use to be very good at lying to myself and for that I will always feel regret. I want to trust myself and believe in myself, so lying to myself was counter productive. The truth of the matter is I think I like Edward far more than he'll ever like me, and even knowing that? I want to be with him. Around him. I just want to talk to him and see him scowl at me or snarl at me and on the rare occasion smile at me. I am baffled myself to think why that is enough for me; but it is," he smiled at Marco then, making the young prince's breath catch.

"I think I understand," Marco mumbled, picking at his bun some more.

Ling gave him a look them, the stretched again and looked around.

"I suppose we really need to concentrate of finding somewhere to spend the night," he said. "Unless you'd rather go home now? I think I've given you quite a taste of life on the lam, I can understand if you have had enough for the night."

"No," Marco said, feeling braver than he ever had in his life. "I want to spend at least one night out here, where I've never been to be able to said I've done it." He felt flushed when Ling grinned at him and in truth he _did_ know how Ling felt, liking someone far more than they could probably even like him in return. And he followed that person he liked down the alley to have a cautious look around before wandering out onto the street.

"My name is Andino," said one sailor, in an immaculate white shirt with a large collar that was open at his throat. He wore a tight fitting vest, dark blue or black in this lighting and he even smelled good, which Ed thought was unusual for a sailor.

"Ed," Ed grunted in return, waiting for Andino's companion, who Ed thought was named Tancredo, or something like that. The Auergoan's sure had a thing for names ending in 'o'. But whatever Trashcano's name was, he was supposedly off getting them beer.

"Ed," Andino said, moving his lips in a way that made Ed slightly uncomfortable. "Just Ed, or short for ...?"

"Edward," Ed grunted again, what the fuck did it matter? Where was the beer? He needed beer. He needed a lot of beer. This was definitely one of those beer needing days and he was not above the need for beer. Not at any time really, if he was honest about it. But he needed beer and maybe a kick in the ass to teach him not to do stupid sentimental things like come all the way back to resorts on a train because maybe, just maybe, he felt bad for running out on Ling. Maybe. And he needed beer to help him devise a good explanation why Mustang might, at this very moment, be getting a call about him having an unfortunate encounter with the law. But really, they were inevitable now, Mustang should just be ready for them anytime Ed left the country. At least it gave Slack Master Mustang something to do.

That was when the beer arrived. Transvestito sat down one side of him and Andino moved closer from his side. What were they afraid Ed was going to grab all the beer and run? Well they should be, he'd done it before, but the bad thing about it was he wasn't sure it was safe enough for him to venture back out. There might still be people out there looking for him. People who would take him back to a jail, put him in a cell and hold a phone receiver up to the bars so Mustang could scream at him. Like that had never happened before.

Umm, beer.

"Edward," Andino said, but he didn't say it to Ed, he said it to Trapeseo, who seemed to look sad for a moment. Then he sighed and said something hushed in auergoan that ended with Eduardo, what the hell, was Trapozido upset because Edward didn't end in 'o'?

Who cares, there was beer.

"It is noticeable," Trapdooro said, "that you are not from here," he smiled and flipped his own hair. Not as long as Ed's, barely down past the man's jaw and Ed quirked an eyebrow before draining half the mug of free beer he had been given. "Tourist?" Trampolino asked.

Hardly and what did he care? So why not?

"Amestrian secret service," Ed supplied, licking his beer mustache off before starting a new one.

The two of them looked at each other, even with Ed there between them so he could see them doing it and Andino put his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm.

"Should you be telling us that?" he said, edging his own mug of beer in Ed's direction. Ed eyed it and he was pretty sure Andino had not drunk anything from it, so he grabbed it and pulled it over.

"Why not?" Ed said, "Who are you going to tell?"

"I might tell anybody," one of them said, but Ed didn't know which one because they'd slipped off his radar now that beer had become his main focus.

"That's alright, then I'll have to kill you," Ed said in the pat and standard answer. He looked around for a bowl of things to eat with the beer. No matter where he went in his many world wide travels there were two constants. Beer and the things you ate with the beer that were generally free. Bowls of stale and overly salty things that a good beer would wash down with no problem. It was a cleverly disguised way of getting the out of date random food things off the stock room shelves and it made you think that you were getting a deal. Beer and free stuff in a bowl to eat just for buying the beer.

"So exciting and dangerous," one of them gushed. "Tell us why you are here in our country being a spy."

"I'm not spying on anyone, I'm here looking for a xingese dumb fuck who I was suppose to be watching, but, _as usual_, he got some dumb ass idea in his head and went off on a bender. Don't you guys have beer stuff to eat while drinking beer?" Ed asked.

"Oh tut, get the man a bowl of grackles, there on the bar," one of them said and the other got up and went to fetch said bowl. These guys sure were accommodating. The bowl was placed in front of Ed and someone cleared their throat politely for Ed to continue his tale.

"Xingese men are so... what's the word I'm looking for? Exotic," one of them said.

"Cliche much," the other one said dryly, "that is such an overused word."

"Why were you suppose to look after him?" Ed was asked.

"He's a prince," Ed answered, finishing off the second beer and looking around for a third. "I'm his escort, only he keeps telling people I'm his wife, which I'm _not_," Ed emphasized. "With royalty you have to have someone watch them," Ed continued, explaining his situation to the civilians, "you can't let them just wonder around on their own."

"He calls you his wife?" one of them asked. "He must really like you."

"Your very own prince, you make me jealous. What's he like?" the other asked.

"He's like a fucking pain in my ass," Ed snarled, tapping the table top and pushing an empty mug back and forth. "He's got all these weird ideas and he's not afraid to tell me about them or even _act_ on them, and then I have to chase him around to make sure he doesn't get maimed or some shit. Like he's decided to go off with some other prince and live the life of a fucking pauper or some such bullshit. He'd got it in his head it's noble or romantic or something like that and he brainwashed that other kid with it, too. Then he tells me after fucking insisting like a million times we were married that suddenly we weren't married. Like he can just call it off like that. Not that we were married or anything, but he's got a lot of nerve changing up on me half way and _then_ the fucker runs off with that other blond kid... he must have a thing for blonds. Fucker, should let him starve to death in the streets. But oh no, what am I doing? Getting chased by the law while looking for him, that's what I'm doing. That is what I'm always doing, running after him and trying to keep up. It's all I fucking do when he's around."

"It sounds to me that someone has some repression," one of them said.

"And that someone here is in denial," the other said.

Ed looked around to see who they were talking about.

"If he's as bad as you say he is, why are you always chasing after him?" one of the questioned.

"It's my job," Ed sputtered.

"I think you could probably get a different job if it's so abhorrent," he was informed.

"No, you don't get it, I'm the only one who can look after him. No one else knows what to expect out of him, he'd get killed under anyone else's watch," Ed stressed.

"Sounds like concern to me," one of them said.

"Um hmmm," the other agreed.

Ed sputtered and slammed his hands on the table causing the little bowl of beer munchies to tip and scatter.

"It's my JOB," he stressed again, trying to regain his former conviction even if he didn't really feel it now.

It had been most inconvenient for Nielas Fuego and his accomplishes when the young prince had disappeared from the resort in which he was staying. It was appallingly easy to lure the boy's uncle there with the hint of gambling, women and wild associations. It had been equally easy to convince the man that the young prince was way to sheltered and should be given the chance to sample the vices of a true man.

Only then the young prince had followed a xingese man away and hadn't been seen since.

And the damn and blast of it all now was the authorities was involved.

What was it with princes these days? As simple as the youngest of the King's brood seemed to be, he'd given them the slip either knowingly or unknowingly.

Such were the lengths it took to be a villain in modern times.

A man with convictions, political and financial, should not have to go to such lengths to be noticed.


End file.
